


Ugly Truth | Dean Winchester/Reader

by shyangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, F/M, Female Protagonist, Female pronouns, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Self Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyangel/pseuds/shyangel
Summary: You've been working with the Winchesters for almost as long as you can remember, and been dating Dean for almost as long. But there's one secret you haven't shared with them...





	Ugly Truth | Dean Winchester/Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Based on request: Working with the Winchesters and not telling them about being Crowley’s daughter. They summon Crowley and are trying to get information. Sam found a spell or something that could summon the persons nearest relative so they do that(against the readers wishes) and she gets stuck in a trap designed for her. Her and her dad bicker and I don’t have room for the rest so you can choose what happens! Thanks!  
> I’m the anon that requested the Crowley daughter thing and I have an adjustment! So when they do the spell to summon his nearest relative, nothing happens and they’re like “did you do it wrong? Did we say it wrong?” And Crowley’s like “oh, you did everything right. She’s just already here.”

“Dad. Please. I know you can get us this grimoire - it’s the only way we can take down this witch! We’ve never seen this kind of magic before. Come on, just help me out,” you plead through gritted teeth. You shivered, pulling your coat tightly around your frame and struggling to block out the tortured wails resonating through the walls - one of the many, _many_ reasons you avoided coming home at all costs.

Crowley smirked, shaking his head. “You think I’m going to help the _Winchesters_ ?” His voice rung with disbelief, and you huffed irritably. 

“As if you haven’t before,” you muttered under your breath, and Crowley’s brow furrowed in annoyance.

“I tolerate them - for your sake, mind you! Doesn’t mean I’m going to go out of my way to make life _easy_ for them,” he growled. “You should be grateful they’re still alive! You know very well how I feel about you and Squir-” You cut him off with a frustrated grunt. 

“Fine!” you snapped. “I can see you obviously don’t care if I, your _only daughter_ , die because you can’t be bothered to get your ass off your throne and-” 

“Mind your tone!” Crowley reprimanded sharply. “And quit with the dramatics - you and I both know all ‘dying’ will do is send you home. Maybe it’d finally knock some sense into you! I didn’t raise you to throw your life away for two bumbling baffoons who’d cut ties the second they knew you were my daughter!”

You shot him a resolute glare, ignoring his words. “Well, I can see you’re clearly not budging. Don’t expect me home any time soon,” you replied coldly, and Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, _dear_.”

\---

Dean jumped as you slammed the door to your shared room, fuming as you stormed into the small space. He looked up in confusion, putting his laptop aside as he warily approached you.

“Hey. What happened?” he asked cautiously, and your growls of rage settled into angry huffs as your boyfriend rested a soothing hand on your shoulder. You swallowed, exhaling shakily as you composed yourself.

“Nothing,” you gritted. “Just a fight with my dad.”

“Again?” Dean raised an eyebrow, and you sighed, your anger fading and leaving nothing but exhaustion in its place.

“Yeah,” you confessed. “He and I just… don’t see eye to eye very often.”

Dean’s gaze searched yours. “Are you okay?” he checked, voice soft. A half smile tilted your lips as you nodded.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Thanks.”

Despite your insistence, you felt your eyes prick with tears as Dean’s arms closed around you and his lips met your temple. You sighed, hiding your face in his neck as you hugged him back, finding solace in the warmth of his chest, and the fresh scent of soap clinging to his skin.

Dean hesitated, breath uneven as he tentatively broke the silence. “Are you ever going to introduce me?” he asked quietly. You stiffened, jaw tense as you drew away. Dean was quick to backtrack, stumbling over his words. “I mean, obviously not right now, but… eventually, right?” he amended. You smiled tightly.

“I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you admitted. “I’m worried that… if you knew what he was like… that you might think badly of me.”

The eldest Winchester’s face fell, eyes brimming with empathy. “Y/N. I love you. Your dad isn’t going to change that,” he reassured you, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek that you hadn’t noticed falling. You swallowed, avoiding eye contact.

“Right,” you murmured, unconvinced. Dean pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips cool on your flushed skin. It took barely a moment longer for his mouth to find yours, gentle and familiar and so comforting that you could almost bring yourself to forget the shouting, the frustration, the secrets. As your hands sought his hair and his tongue your own, you found a taste of home unlike any you had discovered elsewhere - this was your place. But as the door resounded with three successive knocks, you were dragged from your small slice of heaven and reminded of the chaos from which you had so briefly escaped.

“I have an idea,” Sam announced, and Dean rested his forehead against yours as you both savoured the soothing repose still lingering from your affection. Your boyfriend smiled apologetically before turning to his younger brother, though his hands still found their home on your hips.

“It better be good, Sammy,” he warned, though his tone remained light.

“It is,” he vowed, holding a worn leather journal that had obviously been gathering dust in some forgotten corner of the bunker. “I found a spell that can help us.”

\---

“You want to summon Crowley? You’re insane,” Dean objected once Sam had explained phase one of his idea. “For all we know, he has no idea where this freakin’ grimoire is. And even if he does, what makes you think he’ll just _give it to us?_ ” Sam opened his mouth in protest, but Dean cut him off. “We’re not making any more deals, Sammy. Especially not with him.”

Sam huffed in exasperation. “If you’d have let me _finish_ , you’d have known that I found a spell that can summon and trap his nearest blood relative - his _family_ , Dean.”

“You seriously think we can hold that over him? Crowley doesn’t exactly strike me as a family guy, Sam,” Dean argued. Sam’s eyes met his in an unrelenting stare.

“What’s the worst that could happen? It doesn’t work? So what? It’s a better idea than anything you’ve come up with,” he shot back. “I’ve found a spell that will trap them for twelve hours - that’s more than enough time.” Dean made a noise of reluctance, but conceded at Sam’s logic.

“Fine,” he muttered. You weakly tried to interject.

“Guys, I really don’t think this is a good idea… I mean, summoning Crowley? That’s just asking for trouble. We don’t want to get any more on his bad side than we already are,” you insisted. Dean rubbed your arm reassuringly.

“I know, but - and I hate to admit it - Sam’s right. It’s the best we’ve got.” He turned his attention back towards his brother. “What do we need?”

\---

“Well, well, if it isn’t Moose and Squirrel. I certainly wasn’t expecting _this_ ,” Crowley remarked sardonically, his eyes immediately finding yours despite your attempts to hide behind Dean. You nervously avoided his gaze. “What do you want this time, boys?”

“We need information,” Sam announced. “And you’re going to give it to us.”

Crowley sighed dramatically. “I don’t suppose this is about a certain missing grimoire that holds the key to solving this week’s little hunting adventure, is it?” he asked, rolling his eyes. The brothers shot him a quizzical look, and you groaned internally.

“Well… yeah, kind of,” Dean admitted. “How did you-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Crowley interrupted. “Nothing in it for me. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I was quite busy before you lot rudely summoned me,” he continued, staring distastefully at the devil’s trap confining him to the small patch of floor.

“I think this will change your mind,” Dean said, grinning slyly as Sam withdrew a bowl of dried herbs and suspicious concoctions you’d rather not think too hard about. Dean held up a vial of dark liquid, his hand hovering over the bowl. You clenched your jaw as you watched, and Crowley laughed.

“And what is this supposed to be?” His amused tone seemed to grate Dean’s every nerve, while Sam glared at the demon condescendingly.

“We’ll see how cocky you are when your family is on the line.” He nodded to Dean, who emptied the contents of the vial into the bowl below. There was a brief explosion of smoke, and once the air cleared, there was…

“Nothing?” Dean demanded, shooting Sam a look. “You’re sure we got everything?”

“Positive,” he replied, brow creased in confusion as he mentally retraced his steps. “I don’t understand- did we do it wrong? No, surely…”

The brothers confusion was drowned out by Crowley’s cackle. “Oh, no. You did everything right. She’s just already here.” Crowley grinned, his eyes locking on you. Sam and Dean turned slowly towards you, and you felt your heart rate pick up and your palms itch with sweat.

“Y/N, what’s he talking about?” Sam asked, eyeing you questioningly. You swallowed.

“I- I don’t know?” you tried weakly, voice cracking. You stepped forward, only to hit an invisible barrier that only confirmed Crowley’s claims, and the brothers' newfound suspicions. Dean’s expression fell from confusion to hurt before hardening entirely, nothing in his eyes but cold numbness.

“You’re related to him?” he demanded, and you licked your lips nervously before slowly nodding. You averted your gaze, wincing at the piercing tone of his next question. “How?”

“I’m-I’m his daughter,” you confessed. Dean exhaled heavily, running his fingers through his hair as he spun and began to pace in outrage.

“You’re his  _daughter_?” he repeated furiously, and you dared to raise your gaze. You wished you hadn’t as you glimpsed the hatred and hurt burning in Dean’s eyes. “And you didn’t think that was something we should _know?!”_

You looked to Sam helplessly, but the youngest Winchester simply shook his head in disappointment before bowing out, leaving you to face Dean’s wrath with only Crowley’s knowing sneer for company.

“I was going to tell you,” you tried frantically. “I was just- I was scared, and-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Dean snapped. “Just-” He swallowed hard, shaking his head forcefully. “I can’t even look at you,” he muttered, shooting you an expression of disgust. He turned to Crowley. “Get out,” he snarled, scraping the edge of the devil’s trap with the toe of his boot before storming from the room. As his footsteps faded down the hallway, your eyes began to sting with tears that you couldn’t find the strength to hold back.

He hated you. And the worst part was, he had every right to. You’d lied - maybe not to his face, but a lie of omission was no less a betrayal than any other act of dishonesty. This was it - how were you meant to come back from this?

“I to-” Crowley began, but you shook your head fiercely.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered. “Please, don’t say it.”

“ _I told you so_ ,” he persisted, and you squeezed your eyes shut, chest tightening as you a sob tore itself from your throat.

“Leave. I don’t ever want to see your face again,” you spat, and you could’ve sworn a flicker of hurt crossed your father’s face. You turned away, and when you looked back, he was gone.

\---

“Y/N? What are you doing there? It’s nearly three a.m.”

A concerned voice drew you from your fitful slumber. You glanced up hopelessly, uncurling from your fetal position on the cold cement floor. Castiel stood a few paces away, face etched with perplexion.

“Long story,” you muttered, groaning as you sat up and stretched your aching back. “I… well, I’m Crowley’s daughter,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes as your voice broke. “Sam and Dean found out.”

“They didn’t already know?” Cas queried, tilting his head, puzzled.

You shot him a quizzical glance. “No… did you?”

“Y/N, I can see your soul - I know it’s not entirely human. I assumed you’d already told them, so I didn’t bring it up,” he explained. You sniffed, rubbing your eyes weakly.

“Well, I didn’t. Tell them, I mean. And now they hate me. And I don’t blame you if you do, as well,” you said, tears staining your cheeks. You shivered as the chilly air bit your skin, a harsh reminder of the cruel actuality of your circumstance - you couldn’t pass this off as some horrible nightmare, not now.

“You’re cold,” Cas said. It wasn’t a question, and so you didn’t reply - only watched as he shed his trench coat and gently draped it over your shoulders. You clutched it tightly around you, its weight offering warmth and reassurance.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. The angel observed you for a moment.

“I don’t hate you,” he said eventually. “And I don’t think Sam and Dean do, either. You’re not your father, Y/N. They know that more than anyone.”

You swallowed thickly. “Thanks, Cas,” you whispered.

“I’ll speak with them, on your behalf. Do you need help getting to your room?”

“I’m trapped - seven more hours,” you sighed, and Cas nodded solemnly before disappearing. He returned a few minutes later with an offering of pillows spilling from his arms. You gratefully accepted them. “Thanks,” you said weakly. Cas nodded, turning to leave. You panicked - you didn’t want to be alone, not right now. “Are you going?” you asked in alarm. Castiel paused.

“Would you like me to stay with you? Till morning?” he asked gently, and you nodded pathetically as you settled back into the pillows. The kind smile Cas offered you almost made you cry again, and you berated yourself for being so emotional.

“Then I’ll stay,” he said warmly, seating himself nearby. And though it took you a few hours, you finally fell asleep, wrapped in the trench coat of your best friend and, so it felt, your guardian angel.

\---

“Y/N.”

Dean’s gruff voice was a warm welcome to consciousness, washing over you as smoothly as honey and drawing you gently from your slumber. The dreamlike warmth faded to cold realisation as you recalled the night before - the harshness in his eyes, the betrayal in his voice.

“Dean,” you half slurred, voice thick with sleep. Castiel’s trench coat was still draped over your body, and you pulled it snugly around your shoulders as you sat up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, only half awake. He shook his head.

“No, I- I talked to Cas. And he made me realise that - well, I’ve been an ass. Look, you’re not totally off the hook here, but… I overreacted. And… I’m sorry,” he said. You gave him a shaky smile.

“Are we- can we get through this?” Your voice cracked, it’s rough edges piercing Dean’s heart as surely as a shard of glass. He gave a small, sorrowful smile.

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “I’m not gonna lie, trusting you isn’t going to be easy after this, but… I want to try.”

“You can trust me,” you were quick to assure him. “I’ll prove it - I’ll earn your trust back, I swear. I’ll spend my whole life trying. I love you, Dean.”

He smiled, and his next words echoed of hope and promise.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a kudos if you enjoyed! :)  
> [My Writing Tumblr](http://team-free-will-oneshots.tumblr.com/)


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